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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709109">Year-End Reports</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon'>glorious_spoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agent Carter (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Overworking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:35:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A steaming container was deposited in front of his teetering stack of files with such force that broth nearly splashed all over the year-end financial reports. Jack looked up, ready to tear a strip out of whatever idiot junior agent was responsible for the near-catastrophe, but the words died on his tongue at the sight of Peggy Carter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peggy Carter &amp; Daniel Sousa &amp; Jack Thompson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Flash In The Pan: A Food Flash Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Year-End Reports</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/gifts">osprey_archer</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a little bit of a treat for <b>osprey_archer</b>, for the prompt, <i>Coaxing overworked/stressed character to eat.</i></p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A steaming container was deposited in front of his teetering stack of files with such force that broth nearly splashed all over the year-end financial reports. Jack looked up, ready to tear a strip out of whatever idiot junior agent was responsible for the near-catastrophe, but the words died on his tongue at the sight of Peggy, standing before his desk with her arms folded and a spoon brandished like a weapon in one hand. Jack shut his mouth, blinked, then pushed his chair back slightly. It was only when he started to straighten that his shoulders protested, an ache twisting down the long-healed scars and drawing the muscles tight as bow-strings.</p><p>“Uh, Carter,” he said. He mostly managed to swallow the yawn that wanted to follow, but not quite. From the arch of her brows, half-amused and half-judgmental, she hadn’t missed that. “What the hell are you still doing here at…” he squinted at the clock on the far wall, and only then remembered that the batteries still needed replacing. “This time of night. Whatever time it is.”</p><p>“Ten o’clock,” said Daniel from the door behind her. “Give or take. We thought you were gonna start growing roots.”</p><p>“Senate committees wait for no man,” Jack yawned, and peered at the container. It appeared to contain some sort of thick fragrant stew, with vegetables and meat and bits of spice floating in the broth. He was, he realized suddenly, starving. “Where’d this come from?”</p><p>“I didn’t cook it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Peggy said, pushing the bowl through the narrow space between the stacks of files and depositing the spoon beside it. She dug into her pocket and came up with a roll wrapped in a napkin, and set that down too. “Mr. Jarvis brought over a basket once he realized that I hadn’t been home for dinner, and it occurred to me that if I hadn’t had time to eat, you and Daniel probably hadn’t either.”</p><p>“I still don’t,” Jack said, but he picked up the spoon anyway.</p><p>Peggy smiled. “Don’t worry. I certainly don’t intend to make a habit of it.”</p><p>“It’s good,” Daniel offered from the doorway. “Some kinda Hungarian thing, I don’t remember what it’s called.”</p><p>“Goulash,” Peggy said, but after that first bite, Jack couldn’t have cared less what it was called. He dug in with a heedless lack of manners that would have been better suited to Navy mess halls than anything resembling polite company. Neither Peggy nor Daniel seemed to mind. In fact, by the time he’d emerged enough to realize what was happening, Peggy had pulled up a chair at the far corner of his desk and Daniel was crutching into the room to lean over her shoulder, then settle into the other seat.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” Jack asked, sopping up the last of the stew with the roll.</p><p>“Ensuring that the three of us can all get out of here sometime before midnight,” Peggy said, with a sharp look that dared him to argue, and passed a stack of files Daniel’s way.</p>
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